The Lost Chapters
by Glitter Sores
Summary: Harry falls into depression, and makes some bad choices. What happens when Snape takes notice of this? Warning: Contains spoilers, cutting, possible drug use, and adult themes. Realistic. Set in Harry's sixth year.
1. Intro

**Chapter One:** Introduction.

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Hello, there! I've had this idea in my head for a long time. I was thinking either Draco or Harry whom ends up in a dip of depression, but I chose Harry because it's for better story making, especially with Snape. I love when tough guys can show a soft side, but I also hate when people totally butcher character personalities. So, this story WILL be as realistic as possible, don't worry. I've seen too many fan fictions with this plot where either Snape or Harry is completely out of character, and it makes the story really unbelievable. I like to think that fan fiction, when written with taste, can fit almost perfectly into the real books or movies, and can let our imaginations ponder the "what if's" we may have.

**WARNING. THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS. **

**WARNING. THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.**

**WARNING. THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.**

Got it now? When I start writing this story out, it WILL contain spoilers. so if you're a fucking moron and you read this story before reading the seventh book, then flame me because you're an idiot who didn't read the introduction page, I will have NO sympathy, whatsoever. With that said, it may contain spoilers for Half-Blood Prince if you haven't read that one yet, either. Probably not huge ones, but still, be warned.

The story is set at the beginning of Harry's sixth year, which would be the Half Blood Prince book. Now, I've read all the books and seen the movies that have come out so far, but I have a horrible memory, so if I get little details wrong about things, I'm sorry. Feel free to tell me though in a review, so I can know for later. For example, I have no idea when exactly Quidditch season starts, so I may just say practices begin in the fourth week of school. I don't know that, but I'm just making an example of how I might twist up the details by accident.

I probably won't make this have an extreme amount of chapters. Twenty at the most, I would think. But of course, everything is subject to change. However, I'm a huge Snape fan, so there will probably be more stories written by me to come, after I've finished this one. See, I can't write more than one story at a time. I get overwhelmed and confused. And I don't have Word Document, I only have Word Pad so although I'd love to say that I'm good at spelling, I do have those days where the simplest word can throw me off. Not to mention I type rather fast and make a lot of typos by accident. So I hope you guys can put up with that.

I think that's about it. I love reviews, so when I start adding chapters, I'd love to see some! And be completely honest with me, and tell me when you think something doesn't sound right. I'm aiming to add a chapter at least once a week. Thanks for all who will read! First "real" chapter will be put up soon!

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	2. Just a Pinch

**Chapter Two: **Just a Pinch

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It was a reasonably warm September night, and dream frequencies were once again at a high, for all the kids in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were tucked away inside their beds, peacefully letting their minds wander their own subconcious world. However, high in the Gryffindor dormitory, there was a sixteen year old boy who was not having sweet dreams, but instead having another terrifying nightmare. His name was Harry Potter, and if only he could have nightmares that were only that; just nightmares. But he knows this is not true. He knows that when he sees morbid torturing of innocent people by Lord Voldemort, it's not just a bad dream. Harry knows that it's really happening, as if he's peeking through a hole into a torture chamber, where people are suffering. Worst of all, he knows the reason they're suffering and dying is so Voldemort can come one step closer to Harry.

The black haired teenager felt his heart jump in the heat of his nightmare, and his body shot straight up, eyes popping open. Feeling drenched in sweat, he looked around nervously. Nothing but the darkness which was slightly blue-toned by the moonlight shining through the window. Seamus, Ron and Neville were still asleep in their beds, unaware of the gripping fear in his head. Harry touched his lightning bolt scar, it still burned, but not as bad as when he'd actually been dreaming. Once he was sure his breathing and heart rate was back to normal, he layed back down in his bed. It was 3:30 in the morning. He could try to go back to sleep and awake in several hours for Monday morning breakfast with Ron and Hermione, but for some reason, he had a lingering doubt that it would happen.

Harry had only been back at Hogwarts for one week, but his term was already starting off horribly. Every night, there were multiple nightmares. If they didn't concern Voldemort, they were guilt-filled flashbacks of his dear Godfather, Sirius Black, being shot square in the chest by a green beam of light, the killing curse. Or even still, Harry got dreadful flashbacks of Cedric Diggory's dead body the first night Voldemort returned, two years ago. Although even if there was a way to stop these nightmares, the guilt would still lie inside Harry's heart for Sirius and Cedric's deaths. That was a feeling that has been stuck inside his head, heart, and soul. It torn him apart, made him numb.

He put his head in his hands, holding back mournful tears for the two that he barely had time to get to know. No matter how many people assured him that it wasn't his fault, he knew it was. These thoughts came flooding back into Harry's mind. He tried to shut them out, but it was just no use. To resist letting out a childish sob, he began pinching little areas of his hands and arms. Recently, it's been the only way to cope with his distressed feelings of guilt and hate. It's like the little tingles of pain temporarily distracted him from his frustration, his hectic life. After a hour of pinching and worrying about Voldemort, and feeling blame for two murders, he shifted in his bed, and closed his eyes, knowing that he'd have to face his fears again until daytime.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" someone was saying to him as the were shaking one of his shoulders back and forth. He recognized this as Ron.

"What is it?" Harry replied sleepily.

"Are we heading to breakfast or what? One of the things I missed the most about Hogwarts over the summer has been it's food. And just one week of it in my stomach is not enough!" Ron was obviously in a good mood, which rather annoyed Harry.

"That's great Ron. Go with Hermione, then. I just want to rest. I've hardly been getting sleep, I need to catch up." Harry responded.

"Honestly, if I didn't know better I'd say you've come to hate me and Hermione," Ron said with a slight laugh in his voice. "You've only came along with us to breakfast twice so fa-"

"Well, there will be plenty more chances for that! I just want to rest, I mean it."

"Fine then. Cheer up, mate." With that, Ron headed downstairs, leaving Harry alone in the dormitory. Harry regretted not going to breakfast with them, but it would take far too much effort to get up and tell Ron to wait for him. Plus he was sure that if he'd regret it either way. Being around anyone's cheery attitude was enough to send him over the edge.

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Harry's schedule of classes were rather dull that day, but it may have been Harry's mind that was keeping him from enjoying his magical classes. Usually he could appreciate how lucky he was, even if the worst of times, to be out of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's cupboard under the stairs. All he had to do was remember how awful his life had been, and think about his eleventh birthday, when Hagrid broke down the door to tell him he was a wizard. And that could make him so much more warm inside. Then of course maybe that warmth had been fading since his fourth year, and now it had officially vanished, along with the life of Sirius. Oh, how he missed enjoying all his classes. Except of course, Potions with Snape. He had never enjoyed Professor Snape's classes. Even though Potions was now being taught by Professor Slughorn, Harry was still forced to put up with Snape in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It rarely helped that Snape took a cruel pleasure in humiliating Harry for every miniscule thing, though. In fact, just that day in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry had caused Gryffindor to lose twenty-five points, simply because he had taken a headstart on the homework assignment while Snape was still talking.

As he entered the common room, he glanced over to see Hermione and Ron working on their fair share of homework. The boy knew he should be joining them, but instead headed up the stairs to his bed. For some reason, he just couldn't make himself sit down and do his homework. The truth was, he just didn't _care_ to do it at the moment. There was no way in hell he could force himself to care about anything, to be honest. So instead, he sat on his bed, and tried to sort out his priorities. When that became too depressing, he just fell asleep.

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Harry sat straight up in bed, paralyzed by fear. It must have been late, everyone was in bed. This time, his nightmares were flashbacks of deaths he's already seen... most having to do with Sirius. He hated that feeling of cold sweat. _' Why is this happening to me? I'm tired of innocent people dying for me!'_ He was now hunched over, his thoughts racing back and forth. Letting out a sob, he yelled.

"DAMN IT!" He slammed his fist down as hard as he could on what he thought was the mattress of his bed. Instead, he ended up punching himself in the thigh. Even more frustrated than before, he grabbed his upper arms as if hugging himself and silently rocked back and forth, not noticing his nails digging into his skin.

"Harry?" a voice from the darkness said. "Are you alright?" It was once again, Ron. It took Harry a second to answer.

"Yeah. Just... nightmares. Flashbacks, you know." Ron was one of the few people who understood why Harry would often wake in the middle of the night.

"Oh. Anything new? Maybe you should tell Dumbledore..."

"I might just do that." Harry lied. He just wanted Ron to leave him alone. He didn't want to tell Dumbledore anything. As if their headmaster wasn't busy enough. Even though it was dark in their room, Harry could make out an apologetic weak smile on Ron's face as the redhead went back to sleep.

Harry felt pain as he lifted his fingernails from his upper arms. He hardly noticed that he'd been sitting there with his own nails cutting into his skin. As he went over the dents in his arm from the nails, he could tell they were bleeding. How daft could he be? One stupid thing after another.

"Aw, fuck it." Harry whispered to himself as he tried his hardest to get some more sleep, which of course only led up to him laying awake for another four hours.

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**Alright I know that chapter was quite boring but we'll get into the good stuff later. First chapters are never interesting. Review, please! Thank you!**


	3. Black Hole

**The Lost Chapters**

**Chapter Three. **Black Hole

**Notes:** Well I know I said I'd try to update every week or so but of course my computer has to be a piece of shit, and get a virus. Thing is, my computer's very old, and very slow. Add a few hard viruses, and my computer is practically on it's deathbed. It has little spasms where it only lets me open certain things at random times. One of these is my handy dandy word pad where I write my chapters. I just now got it to work but I doubt it will last long. I'm saving up for a new computer, however, and hopefully then I can make regular updates.

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Another few weeks at Hogwarts, and Harry was perfecting what he called his "outside self". On the outside he was trying hard to act as normal as possible, trying not to be bothered by these visions of torture he endured almost every night. On the inside, though, he was struggling. He tried to go to Dumbledore once, but he was away. Away where? Harry had absolutely no clue, and it quite bothered him. Just another example of how his headmaster was never there when he was needed most. But now thinking about it, what exactly could Dumbledore do? Tell Harry to empty his mind at night? To get Harry to continue with Occlumency lessons? There was no way he would ever go through such a thing again with Snape, even if these visions killed him! And sometimes, lying in the dark, Harry, even if for one slight second, did wish that these visions could kill him. Then of course there were the snap-back ideas of "thinking happy thoughts", as if it could really help him. Right.

Ah, if only Harry could go back to his first year of Hogwarts. Or even his second, or third! He felt so young, as he should, even with the burden of Voldemort. Back then, as big as Voldemort was, it was still a small thing. They wouldn't have realized it then, but of course talk of Voldemort was small- at least compared to now, where the whole wizarding world is frightened half to death! And now that he was in his sixth year, he had to deal with Voldemort and crew, as well as his teachers cutting limited slack. Except for Professor Slughorn, the old goof. He was constantly praising Harry, telling him how wonderful he was, and how talented he was at potions. The only thing that might have interested Harry now was the Half-Blood Prince, who was giving him fantastic advice in Potions. Even if for a little while, there was a mystery in that old tattered Potions book that distracted Harry from the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. It was not enough, however, to stop the nightmares from coming. This was the whole reason Harry was out of bed at such a late hour. There was something ominous about this night that made Harry refuse to sleep. Instead, he took his invisibility cloak and wandered about the castle. Something about just walking, not knowing where he was going, was alluring at that moment. A minor stress-reliever.

_'What the bloody hell was that noise?!' _Harry shouted inside his mind. He was walking down a dimly lit hallway, when a loud crash startled him from up ahead.

"Hah! Whoopsie daisy!" an annoyingly familiar voice said.

_'Damn it Peeves, of course you must awake the whole castle when I'm out of bed after hours.'_ Harry thought. _'No matter. No one can see me. What am I making a fuss about?'_ Aiming to avoid Filch, whom Harry knew must be on his way to shout angry and swear-filled prose at Peeves, he took a nearby passage way, which would lead him to the Great Hall. From there there were hundreds of hallways to explore, and that should keep him busy until whenever he decided to return to Gryffindor Tower. He continued down the corridor, almost to the end until a shaded figure appeared right in front of him. Harry stayed completely still.

"Don't bother, Harry Potter, I know you're there." said a soft but dark and monotonous voice. Snape's large and bony hand had yanked the invisibility cloak right off of Harry's body.

"I.." Harry didn't know what to say, so he just stopped speaking. He was tired of always defending himself against this greasy git.

"You...? Perhaps, Potter," Snape spat, "you would like to tell me what you're doing at one thirty in the morning, wandering the castle? Is it just a habit?"

"I'll go back to the tower, then." Harry said bitterly, snatching back his invisibility cloak from his Professor. He wanted to end this conversation as quick as possible.

"Oh yes, how dare I try to touch daddy's precious invisibility cloak. Not that he ever did anything more honorable with it, of course." Snape rolled his eyes as Harry glared with hatred. Severus continued. "I'm assuming idiotic deliquency runs in the family, yes?"

"No." Harry retorted shortly. "And if you don't mind, I'd like to head back to bed. I'm rather tired." He was certainly getting an attitude.

"Tired, I'm sure. Why else would the Chosen One be prancing around the castle at night-"

"I'd do perfectly well without having to hear your dumb bullshit, _sir._" Harry had his arms crossed over his cloak, staring Snape right in the eyes. _'Fuck this shit, fuck you, I'm going to bed.'_ After a slight pause watching the offended yet amused look on Professor Snape's face, Harry turned around to leave.

"Three detentions, Potter! One for walking the corridors after hours, one for snatching that invisibility cloak out of my hands, and one for disrespecting authority."

"Fine, I don't care!" Harry replied, not even looking behind him as he walked out of the passage the same way he came, heading for the dormitory.

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Two thirty. An hour later, and Harry still had not been able to let his body rest with sleep. He was still awake, slightly swaying back and forth in his bed, sloppily but quietly going through his possessions, looking for anything to distract him. In a state of disorientation, Harry took his quill and a sheet of parchment. It has still been habit to write about his problems. But to who? Sirius had passed. Restraining his frustrated tears, Harry crinkled up the parchment and let it fall to the floor. _'What was I thinking? Nobody cares. Nobody. Ron and Hermione have their families, and each other. What do I have?_ The boy still held his quill in his hand. He ran his finger over the sharpened point and was instantly reminded of Professor Umbridge. His eyes drew to the scars on his hand.

Slowly, Harry let the tip of the quill graze the top of his skin on his arm. It tickled. On impulse, Harry jabbed the tip of the quill deep into his arm, a sudden puncture wound.

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I'll try to fix my computer as soon as possible. Sorry for the wait.


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